A wand, a fez and a bow tie
by Noirthrus
Summary: Harry has had a pocket watch for most of his life. He doesn't know where it came from, why he has it, or why no one ever seems to notice it. He does know one thing however... It bares a similarity to the one used in a show called Doctor Who... Timelord!Harry, Doctor!Harry, Good!Hermione, Good!Ron, Bad!Dumbles... Pairings to be decided later. Most likely Harry x Rose. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Right, new story. **

**Disclaimer: I own both Harry Potter and Doctor Who... (if you really are that bad at detecting lies... well, that was a lie.)  
**

* * *

Harry sighed contently as he stared up at the sky above him, littered with twinkling stars, mentally naming each and every constellation he could see. If anyone chanced upon him now (and Harry had no doubt that Mrs. #5 across the street was peeking out the window every now and then, trying to find something to gossip about), Harry had no doubt that he would look very, very odd, just lying there on the luxurious grass that was the Dursley's front yard, in the middle of the night, with his hands under his head, and staring up at the sky.

He was also pretty sure he could hear his 'guard' shifting every now and then, and from the amounts of 'ows' he had heard until now, Harry was pretty sure that it was Tonks' turn to guard him tonight. He had known, of course, from the moment his uncle had picked him up at station 9 3/4 at the end of his fifth year that there was someone watching over him. That prickling feeling that made his hairs on his back stand up seemed to never disappear fully.

He was startled from his thoughts as he heard the living room window open harshly, making the window squeak in protestation at the rough treatment it was getting. Rolling his eyes, Harry slowly turned his head to look at the man who he called his uncle, leaning out of the window creating a weird looking silhouette which kind of resembled a small whale with a moustache. Snorting at the ridiculous thought, Harry propped himself onto one elbow and turned to face his uncle.

"Yes?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow at the man. Although Harry couldn't see his face, he was pretty sure his uncle was scowling at him.

"Get back here boy, I don't want the neighbours thinking were queer!" He said in a harsh whisper. Harry just shrugged and muttered- "People already think that."

To his right, Harry heard a snort which was quickly covered up and he suddenly had no doubt at all that this was indeed Tonks.

"What was that boy!?" His uncle exclaimed.

"Nothing," Harry muttered, this time louder. Vernon seemed to scowl at him again and when Harry made no move to stand up he slammed the window shut again.

"Sleep outside then!" He yelled from the other side of the window and stalked back to... well the kitchen probably.

Rolling his eyes once more, Harry let himself fall back once more, now people would definitively think that the Dursleys were freaks, not that they didn't think that already. He didn't really care about sleeping outside. Actually, at the moment, he proffered it more then lying in his warm room which had been getting hotter and hotter as the sun got warmer and warmer. The cool calmed him somewhat. After the events at the ministry... well, he'd been a huge ball of anger and as corny as it sounded, watching the stars twinkle calmed him a lot.

He had always loved the stars, anything to do with astronomy or physics really. He had loved science as well, while he was in muggle school. He had of course excelled in each of those subjects, that is, until Vernon emotionally abused (Harry actually believed that emotional abuse was worse than physical) Harry into making himself down-preform his abilities to make Dudley look better in front of the teachers and his fellow classmates.

Life before Hogwarts hadn't been all _that _bad. Sure, he had lived in a cupboard full of spiders, with a family who literally hated him, despised the very thought of him... But school hadn't been all that bad.

Although people had picked on him for being anti-social, having glasses, odd knees, and a weird habit of waving his hands about to prove his point, he had enjoyed the science, history and literature classes. Hell, he had even gone to football (soccer) at which he hadn't been all _that _bad. Of course, Vernon had made him quit it when Dudley decided to join. That had pissed Harry off.

And though he loved the magical world with all his heart, loved the spells and the enchanting quality about it (no pun intended), somehow, he knew he didn't belong there. No, his passion had always been physics.

From the first moment his physics teacher (in muggle school) had opened his mouth and started talking about the basics, Harry had been mesmerized by the seemingly infinite possibilities one could achieve through them. Soon, however, he had started knowing the subject better than the teacher himself, though once again, he had been forced to keep silent about his talent.

He knew, just somehow, that he was a genius. There was no possible way one could read a book as fast as he did and memorize the whole bloody thing, or understand everything the teacher said and know _more. _Sometimes, it was as if the knowledge was already hidden somewhere in his brain, getting unlocked bit by bit.

Therefore, that was why at Hogwarts he had hidden his knowledge and genius. He already stood out from the mass of the wizarding world, being a celebrity and all. He didn't want more attention on him. Not that he didn't like being a genius, no, he just somehow... wanted his enemies to underestimate him. Big time.

His hand crept up to the fob watch hanging on a gold chain around his neck and he sighed as a calming pulse went up his arm. Once again, he _somehow _knew, that the fob watch was connected to all of this in some odd way.

Holding it up to the light from the full moon (ah, Lupin was probably suffering somewhere) he examined the watch intently, just as he had done so many times before. It was gold, and on the face of it were very delicately engraved circles upon circles upon circles, obviously showing the time. He never understood how, but with one look at it, he always knew the time. It was as if his brain was familiar with the 'language' already and all he had to do was look at it.

There was a small clasp on the other side, obviously to open the watch, but somehow it had always been jammed shut and no matter how much he tried he had never been able to open it. Frowning in frustration as it once again refused to open, he turned it over and examined the strange set of... runes? carved on there. It was something important, he was sure of that... But didn't quite know what.

Another curious thing (and slightly disturbing) about it was that there seemed to be some sort of cloaking... charm over it to prevent people from realizing it was there at all. All of the times he had been in the infirmary, woken up, dressed in the hospital clothes, wand on the bedside table, Madam Pomfrey never seemed to realize there was anything at all. Even Dumbledore hadn't seen anything on the times he had visited Harry in the Hospital wing.

One time he had been close, but then the old man's eyes seemed to glaze over and pass over the watch without a second glance. He was pretty sure that if Tonks was watching him right now, she probably just saw him examining his hands or something. Sighing, he slowly slipped the fob watch under his dirty shirt and shifted to lie under the tree, were he still had a perfect view to the stars.

And he promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Harry was woken to the feeling of someone, or rather, something poking him.

He opened one eyes and was surprised to find Dudley standing there, with one of his friends from Smeltings (whose name Harry never bothered to learn), prodding him with a long stick as if worried he might contract some horrible sickness, but smirking for his friend's benefit.

Harry slowly opened his other eyes and stared at them impassively, as if they were mere insects, dirt on his feet. Which they technically were. Harry inwardly rolled his eyes, he was getting a tad too arrogant about his own genius mind.

"So, Potter, how does it feel like to be at the end of the stick now?" Dudely asked, laughing to his joke which frankly didn't make any sense at all. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like me to inform your mother that you have been brandishing, ah... _sticks _around the whole neighbourhood, pretending to be... wizards?"

Instantly, Dudley dropped the stick on the grass as if he had been burned and looked at the house a little fearfully, as if wondering whether his mother had been spying at him from the kitchen window.

"C'mon man, lets teach one of the kids at the park a lesson," Dudley told his friend who instantly nodded like a loyal dog did to his master, looking a little confused. Harry frowned as he himself gazed up at the house. With a glance at his fob watch, Harry realized that it was late morning, Vernon was most likely at work, but then again, Petunia's shouts were almost as bad as his. Shuddering involuntarily as he was reminded of the sound of her screeching, he sped off into the opposite direction to which Dudley had gone.

Maybe he could delay the confrontation until later.

...

Ah, bookshops. He loved them, well, bookshops and libraries. He loved that smell of books, the knowledge hidden in the pages... God, he was starting to sound like Hermione.

There _was _a small bookshop in Little Whinging, in the part of town where the more sophisticated people lived. It was a small house, just two floors big with many many books about science. Harry had only been there once when he was younger to buy Dudley's school books. Harry had mostly gone to the library for books, not that the Dursleys knew that.

A small tinkle was heard throughout the shop as he pushed the door open and he smiled at the shopkeeper if only to look a little more presentable, after all, his clothes were a little dirty from the night spent outside. The woman frowned a little but didn't say anything, instead she just turned back to her paperwork.

Rolling his eyes, Harry remembered that he had been planning to buy some proper clothes this year... ah well, that could wait. After all, he'd gone fourteen, soon fifteen years without proper clothes, he could survive another few days. The shop was empty except a dark skinned boy, a little younger than Harry, and his... nanny?

They were in the science section of the store (the one _he _wanted to see as well), and arguing hotly but quietly, gesturing wildly at the basket at the boys feet which was filled with books. As he approached them, Harry glanced at the basked and hummed an odd tune... Ah, all books about astronomy. Ignoring them, Harry started to browse through the huge amount of books, smiling now and then when he encountered a book he had read and liked. Well, in reality, he had read all of them, except the new editions.

Behind him, the argument was getting louder and sighing Harry turned around.

"You know, your nanny is right, you don't need all these books," Harry said happily, gesturing to the basket as the two turned to face him. He picked up the first book from the pile and flickered through it, remembering the time he had read it. Harry held the book up to show them the title, _A brief history of time, by Stephen Hawking. _

"This book is well written, and a brilliant introduction to Astronomy, however, the theory isn't completely right." He had even calculated everything Hawking claimed to be the truth, just to be sure. Harry then picked out the next book... and then the next... all fifteen of them, until eventually only three books remained in the basket, making it much lighter and much more affordable.

Grinning madly Harry extended his hand to the woman.

"Harry Potter." She stared at him for another few seconds, seemingly remembering something, and then shook Harry's hand.

"Jenna Coleman." She then gestured to her charge who was staring at Harry with amazement, "this is my charge, Kassius Johnson."

Inwardly, Harry frowned as the names seemed to strike a familiar cord somewhere. Where had he heard them before? Where? Outwardly, though, he grinned happily at them and bounded off to the other end of the library to look for books he hadn't yet read.

It was almost half an hour later when Harry felt the sofa near him dip a little as someone sat down at the other end. Seeing as Harry hadn't heard the bell twinkling, he concluded that the two other shoppers were still browsing the library and no one else had entered either.

"Bow ties, seriously?" The voice sounded playful, but a little strained and Harry looked up from the book at the lady from before who was staring at him, as if testing him for whatever reason. Shrugging, he joyfully said-

"Bow ties are cool." He had worn bow ties in several occasions now, once for the yule ball, then that time when they had a haloween dress up party. There was also that time when the Masons had come over, the summer before his fourth year to give the 'deal' another chance. The Dursleys had no choice but to show Harry as the two guests had already known about him. Vernon had given him (in Vernon's opinion) the most hideous bow tie in history. Personally, Harry actually thought it was very nice... then again, that was Harry's weird sense of fashion no one seemed to understand.

By now he had turned back to the book, and if he had been paying attention to the girl, he'd have seen the very shocked and slightly frightful expression on the girls face.

And then as quick as she had come, she was gone. Frowning, Harry put the book about bow ties back into the shelf and with a hasty farewell to the shopkeeper (who was looking at him suspiciously) he quickly left the store thinking that the encounter had been a tad too weird for him.

...

When he reached his 'home', the Dursleys were gone (thankfully), so Harry had to rely on his two little metal clips to open the door which he managed quite rapidly when he saw #5 peeking out the window. The living room was probably the only cool (temperature) room in the whole house as the Dursleys spent most of their time there and therefore had decided that they weren't going to waste anymore energy anywhere else in the house, even if it was to cool it down.

Happy that he had been able to avoid any arguments with this aunt and uncle, Harry bounded up the steps, and quickly retreated into his room where he sat down on his bed and pulled out the fob watch which had been heating up in the last two hours, burning his chest slightly.

Harry yelped and dropped it as it got to hot to touch. It fell down to the floor with a clang but surprisingly didn't burn the wooden floor.

Frowning, Harry grabbed a dirty shirt from the corner of the room and quickly covered it around his hand. He then proceeded to touch the watch. Seconds later, the shirt had a large smoking hole in it.

"What are you?" Harry muttered as he circled the item that had been hanging around his neck his whole life, with something akin to betrayal. He was about to try to poke it with a stray pencil lying on his desk when the watch started glowing brightly.

Whether it was from the heat... or from whatever other reason, Harry didn't know.

And then suddenly, as if heaving something exceptionally heavy, the lid opened.

...

_And then suddenly, as if heaving something exceptionally heavy, the lid opened._

Harry shouted out as excruciating pain pierced his very being. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was... white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain; he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life.

It was like someone was remodelling his whole genetic structure, tearing every piece away from the other to then put it back in another way.

Then suddenly, the pain subsided almost as quickly as when it had come, leaving a dull throbbing in it's place. And then he knew.

He remembered.

* * *

**There.**

**New story. Love it? hate it? Should I spend my time on it?**

**Anyway, if you want to, and if you have time, and you want to, and you have time... please review. No pressure. **

**So, thanks for reading. **


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING! THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!**

**Right, I kind of messed up with the introductions of Clara and Archie, so instead of them being called 'Clara' and 'Archie', their names have been changed to Jenna Coleman and Kassius Johnson. Sorry. I just had a new idea...  
**

**Anyway, thank you so much for reading (and for those who reviewed - an extra thanks) the last chapter. I hope you like this one. So... Enjoy!**

**Btw, if there are any Betas out there... PLEASE! HELP!**

**Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter and Doctor who (I won the rights in a poker game. :D)****In case my humour really is that bad and so incomprehensible, that was supposed to be a joke. **

**Oh, and I wanted to ask anyone who writes a review as a guest and not logged in, to please log in, so that I can answer their questions if they have any. :) Thanks.**

* * *

The Doctor groaned as his senses slowly returned to him, one by one.

First, he felt the rough and rather hard floor below him, on which he had fallen unconscious from exhaustion. He was sure he would have a sore back and neck later. Next, his sense of smell returned, sharply notifying him that his room, or rather, he did, stank of sweat. Then two pops sounded in his ears and suddenly, he could hear again.

Finally, he let his eyes open to his dimly lit room.

Groaning again, the Doctor made himself sit up and gaze about, getting accustomed to the sudden change in sharpness in his eyesight. Harry's glasses were lying on the floor, cracked and dirtier than ever, the fob watch was laying about a meter away from the former. The Doctor picked up the broken and now empty fob watch with a grin. It had been a good idea to put a perception filter on it, not unlike the one the TARDIS had.

Frowning, the Doctor let his hand roam around his face, looking for anything that was out of place, it seemed he had regenerated in some way, either that, or he had just gone back to his Gallifreyan body.

Probably the latter, as he could already feel his two hearts _thump-ing _rhythmically sending a calming sensation through his body. Seeing the cracked mirror Sirius had given him last summer, he gingerly and a little awkwardly stood up, instantly stumbling as he moved about. Somehow, awkwardness was something that all Time-lords always had, probably something to do with their constantly changing bodies. Suddenly a grin graced his face, finally he was tall again!

Holding the mirror up to his face, the Doctor examined his reflection intently. His looks had stayed more or less the same, except the fact that his features were a bit more Gallifreyan. A sculpted angular face, regal almost princely. His eyes though were much brighter, although in his opinion made him look much, much older than this body made a strong contrast against his pale ivory skin which had an almost luminious quality to it. It also seemed that the 'regeneration' had helped erase the years of neglect dealt by the Dursleys and surprisingly the scars as well. Well, except the prominent lightning bolt scar (which had dulled a little) exposed on his forehead.

So. He was Harry Potter. Was it narcissistic to say that he was his favourite literary character? _Literary character. Literary._ Didn't that mean that the character was made up and written in a book? He must have slipped into a multiple universe time vortex or something. After all, the last thing he could remember was leaving Clara at her house and then travelling, or rather, trying to travel to the planet of ice-scream. He had probably slipped into a similar alternative universe. He'd just have to check if the Harry Potter books existed in this world.

Then, after a quick check in his conciousness, Harry confirmed that his TARDIS was still alive and somewhere out there. He'd have to find it later. Perhaps the TARDIS had malfunctioned? The type 40 TARDIS, seemed to mess up quite a bit, sending him to obscure places or massing up with the time. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor decided not to dwell on that for the time being.

Taking off his sweat soaked shirt, the Doctor balled it up and threw it into the corner with a scowl. He'd have to change his clothes later. There was no chance he'd ever be caught in those clothes ever again. Nope, he had to find his tweed jacket and bow-tie.

Shrugging, the Doctor delved into his school trunk and pulled out a dress shirt he had for formal events at Hogwarts. At least that one fitted him... well, it was a little tight. Then, with a sigh, he quickly changed into a pair of tweed trousers which had been way to big for him earlier. Petunia had, as usual, picked them up from a second hand shop in London. This would have to do for the time being.

Shrugging, he raced down the stairs... or tried to. He ended up rolling down them causing quite a lot of sound and he winced. When no sound came from anywhere in the house, he concluded that the Dursleys weren't home yet from whatever place they'd gone to before when Dudley had come home after terrorizing the kids at the park.

Wait, hadn't the Dursleys babbled about a lawn competition? Ah, well it didn't matter much now anyway.

Slowly, the Doctor picked himself up from the floor and walked somewhat calmly to the kitchen. Clara would have to wait a little, so would his TARDIS-and-Sonic-Screwdriver-Search. Regeneration always left him a little peckish and a little out of his mind.

The fridge was loaded with food and so Harry delved into it with a wicked grin.

...

The Doctor was happy to see that the Dursleys had frozen a considerable amount of fish fingers. Usually, Petunia disapproved of frozen food, but obviously, Dudley had complained that he wanted fish fingers. The Doctor winced slightly at the reminder that he had something in common with his overweight cousin. Now that he thought about it family, the Doctor's frown deepened. Even if he _had _slipped into another universe with the TARDIS, why had he been reverted into baby state. Perhaps his body had died while he was travelling through the vortex, and only his soul survived? Then, perhaps, it had found a home in little Harry's body. Was that even possible? But how could the fob watch be explained? Besides, how had the fob-watch with his Time-Lord essence opened earlier that day? Had Clara been some kind of trigger?

Frowning thoughtfully, he dipped his fish finger into the can of custard which tasted a little sour. Glancing at the expiration date, the Doctor sighed deeply when he realized that it was already a whole month old. Setting that aside, he continued to nibble on the fish fingers.

Hermione would be horrified.

The year was 1996, but Clara had been born in 1989, she would have been seven now... How had he met her in the book-shop the other day? There she had looked to be in her mid twenties. Had the time-line shifted so much to accommodate him? He knew for a fact though, that in the books, Harry Potter had been born in 1980. When he had met her the last time as the Doctor, she had been 24. He even remembered them celebrating her birthday together.

Wasn't there a show though? Called Doctor Who? Dudley had watched it when he was younger, until his parents had told him to stop as it was unnatural.

Frowning, the Doctor walked quickly to the TV and turned it on, then he turned the cassette player on and skimmed the cassettes on the bookshelf nearby trying to find the one with the 'Doctor Who' label. Grinning as he found it, the Doctor quickly out it in and sat down on the lumpy sofa, leaning back contently.

There was a small introduction about some submarine sinking... Then the TARDIS appeared and man who looked exactly like his 11th incarnation stepped out, followed by a woman who looked like Clara. Next, there was a theme song... then the rest of the episode.

As the tape ended, the Doctor stayed frozen in his seat. So, now he knew at least that he was in an alternative universe where the Doctor was a fictional character and instead Harry Potter existed. But, he had travelled from his own universe to this one as the Doctor, therefore, the Doctor existed now. But that meant... that his old universe didn't have a Doctor anymore.

The Clara he had met earlier probably wasn't even Clara. No! She was the _actress_ that played Clara. And to them, the Doctor didn't exist as a real person. Then, logically, the Harry Potter books didn't exist here either.

But the real TARDIS had travelled here with him, he could feel her buzzing energy in the corner of his mind. The problem was, he couldn't quite find her location. Anyway, that happened often, eventually she would find him in the most convenient moment.

Something had happened that had scrambled the two universes together, all he had to do was separate them from each other, and make his Time-Lord essence travel back to his own universe and back to his body. His body in his universe had probably become a human. That was a little worrying... but Clara was probably taking care of him. Hopefully.

...

Eventually, when the Doctor had managed to collect himself to some sort of degree, he trotted into Dudley's room to find his cousin's muggle money. It had taken him the better part of an hour to find the pig's wallet because he had had to look through the piles of dirty clothes and rotten food, but eventually he found it under a shirt covered with what might have been vanilla pudding.

Thanks to the Dudley's parents, who gave him so much pocket money, Harry was able to take a taxi to the centre of London and buy three new tweed suits, two pairs of comfortable boots, a TARDIS-blue bow-tie and even a red fez which looked remarkably similar to the old one which River had blown up.

Unfortunately, he had to take the train back because he had used up most of Dudley's money and therefore didn't have enough to pay a taxi driver.

The rest of the night was spent laying on the sofa laying and watching the few cassettes of Doctor Who which were surprisingly and unnervingly accurate accounts of his own travels and adventures. It was actually quite fun to watch himself chatting away with Clara and looking back to that time, the Doctor realize he had been quite odd. Well, he hadn't really changed... But his time as a human had taught him a little about human morals and the way their mentality.

Just as he was falling asleep, silence surrounding him (the TV had been turned off by now) he heard an apparition crack just outside of the house, resembling the sound of a car backfiring. So much for subtlety.

The Doctor quickly picked up his wand from the floor and tucked it into his pocket (within reach). Then he grabbed the water pistol which he had laid on the table (and found in the shed), stood up and turned the lights off.

Surprisingly his wand had still worked, not that he had tried a spell... It just felt warm in his hand every time he touched it, much like when he touched his screwdriver. Actually, wands _were _remarkably similar to sonic screwdrivers. Magic, pff, that wasn't even real. What wizards had failed to realize (not that they could help it that their brains were so tiny) was that they were simply a race of humans with advanced genetic evolution that allowed them to channel energy (magic) through a focus (namely a wand which had the core of a creature that was even more genetically advanced than humans). Besides, the pureblood wizards were simply descendants from the alien race called Carrionites. If he remembered correctly, different Carrionite clans had different 'clan magic'. that was what the purebloods called family magic and had claimed would disappear if they married muggles or muggle-borns which was partially true as the wizards with the advanced genetics had the dominant gene.

Besides, magic was basically the same thing as science. The only difference was that one used the right string of numbers, the right equation, to split the atoms. Carrionites and the genetically more advanced used words, words in Latin and a focus.

Shaking his head, the Doctor moved himself into a defensive stance and pointed the water pistol at the door. With his advanced hearing, he was able to hear the whispered _alohomora_ from what sounded like Moody. Great. The Doctor had hoped to have some more time to come to terms with the memories of his human self, Moody was perceptive... and very, very paranoid. The man would most probably interrogate him.

Surprisingly, the only person who entered was Dumbledore who Harry had wrongly assumed to be Moody. He shut the door behind him quickly and before the wizened old wizard could cast a _lumos_ charm, Harry flicked the lights on.

"Don't move! I'm armed!" He said lowly.

Dumbledore turned slowly, pointing his wand at Harry in the process. His eyebrows shot up when he saw Harry's considerable height and change in appearance. Not only of his clothes, but also of the face.

"What flavour did Dumbledore say he got of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans when he visited me in the infirmary in my first year?" Technically, he was messing up the whole book series. But right now the Doctor was pretty sure he didn't know the whole dialogue by heart. Besides, he had already messed up by going to London. Nevermind the fact that he had invaded Harry's body. Well, technically, he hadn't invaded Harry's body. Harry just was him in human form.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow again, but his eyes twinkled. "It was earwax flavoured. Now, Harry, what did I tell you at the end of last year?"

"The prophecy." The Doctor said bluntly. He'd forgotten about the prophecy! He'd probably have to complete it before going back to his universe! Maybe that was the whole point of it? Maybe he had to fulfil the prophecy? Shaking his head mentally, to clear it, he lowered his water pistol.

"Good evening, Harry." The man said, eyes twinkling, Then his eyes lowered to the pistol, now hanging from the Doctor's fingers, "Should I ask, my dear boy?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I figured that most wizards know what a gun is and if you were a muggle you wouldn't be particularly frightened of a kid with a stick." The Doctor pressed the trigger, letting out a torrent of water which fell on the amazingly clean and formerly dry carpet carpet. "A normal muggle wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a real gun and this." With that, he tucked the gun into his jacket pocket.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled happily. "Ingenious, my boy. The bow-tie?"

Harry adjusted his TARDIS-blue bow-tie, grinning, "Bow-ties are cool."

Once more, Dumbledore's eyes examined him, with a suddenly satisfied expression, "Excellent, excellent. I trust, your family have been taking care of you?"

"Not particularly." The Doctor said remembering how Vernon had thrown him out last night. Dumbledore suddenly looked a little older.

"I trust you got my letter?" He said a tad too gravely.

"Letter?" The Doctor asked, faintly remembering that in the books, Harry Potter had gotten a letter in the summer before his sixth year. He then remembered the letter lying on his desk, unopened. He'd been a little more preoccupied of other things. "Ah, yes... The letter."

Dumbledore gazed about the living room until finally his eyes fell on the ceiling and he frowned thoughtfully, "And your family? Where are they, Harry? I have no doubt that if your dear uncle were here, I would be confronting a large man with a large moustache and a very red face."

The Doctor sniggered slightly then shrugged, "They left, earlier today, to some lawn competition. I really don't know why though, they were fooled last year, by Tonks. They must have called the place to make sure that it was real."

"Should I make tea, professor?" The Doctor asked with a raised eyebrow. Dumbledore shook his head, "No, we won't be here for very long. I just need to write a letter to your family. Is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..."

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore suggested shrewdly. The Doctor nodded hastily. Perfect, Dumbledore had provided him with an excuse!

"I'll just go and - er - finish off," said the Doctor and ran up the stairs.

It took him a little over ten minutes to track down everything he needed; at last he had managed to extract his invisibility cloak from under his bed, screwed the top back on his jar of colour-change ink and forced the lid of his trunk to shut on his cauldron. Then heaving his trunk in one hand, and holding Hedwig's (he had forgotten completely about her until now when she had squawked indignantly at him to gain his attention) cage in the other, he made his way downstairs.

There was no sign of Dumbledore in the hall way, so the Doctor left the trunk in that narrow space and returned to the living room where Dumbledore was sitting on the sofa and eyeing the custard can (from earlier) with interest.

"Professor - I'm ready now." It felt odd to call someone other than River a professor... But then again, this whole situation was odd.

"Good," Said Dumbledore turning to face Harry, "Just one last thing, then. Please sit," He gestured warmly to the armchair across of the sofa, as if he were the host.

"Well, Harry," Said Dumbledore turning towards him, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned."

The Doctor felt sorrow somewhere deep inside, and he was sure that was his human self reacting to the news. After all, Sirius had been his godfather.

"Oh, right," The Doctor choked out. Dumbledore looked at him with a concerned expression.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore went on. "You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy-"

"Wait," Said the Doctor interrupting the headmaster, "You had the reading of the will without me? Especially when the will concerns me, and me alone." He said a tad to coldly. Dumbledore hung his head in shame for a second.

"I apologize, my dear boy, with Voldemort now out there... It's a bit dangerous for you."

The Doctor frowned but waved his hand at the Headmaster, telling him to continue. "Our problem," He continued, "is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"Ah," The Doctor muttered thoughtfully. If he had a house now with _magical _protections... wasn't it more protected than the Dursley's house which was simply protected by sacrificial energy? "Well, that house, is well protected, more so than this one... I shall be living there from now on."

"You see, my dear boy, that is the nature of the problem. The order of the Phoenix has temporarily vacated the building due to the Black family tradition which says that the house is handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of Black. Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pure-blood."

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into the Doctor's mind and he winced slightly. Technically what Dumbledore was saying that only pure-bloods; namely descendants of Carrionites or perhaps even any type of alien who could manipulate energy, were able to inherit the house and the title of the House of Black. Seeing that Dumbledore was looking at him expectantly, the Doctor said - "I bet there has."

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

The Doctor frowned at this, that would be bad. "That would be very disadvantageous for us," he said lowly. Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, obviously, we would prefer that she didn't get it, either," Said Dumbledore. "The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive at the doorstep any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"I would also prefer if you stayed out, professor. After all, I would like to live there if possible." Dumbledore frowned at him and the twinkle in his eyes dimmed slightly.

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore ignoring him for now, "there is a simple test."

He then pulled out his wand, holding it gently in his shriveled black hand. Frowning, the Doctor remembered that it had happened because Dumbledore had somehow managed to transfer the urse from the Gaunt ring onto himself. He raised an eyebrow but Dumbledore muttered a small 'not now'.

"You see," Dumledore said, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited-" He flicked his wand quickly and then tucked it back into his sleeve.

There was a loud _crack _and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursley's formerly immaculate but slightly wet carpet, dressed in grimy rags. The Doctor jumped up in surprise and stared at the creature with bright eyes. Of course! All the _magical _creatures on Earth were aliens! How hadn't he seen that before?!

"Kreacher." Finished Dumbledore, with a grim expression.

Before Kreacher could even start protesting or wailing, the Doctor knelt down on one knee and pushed the elf up to a standing position, then very quietly, so that Dumbledore didn't hear, he said, "Kreacher, you don't know me, but I know your parents told you stories about me. I know that you come from the planet Grenavlia. I am the Doctor, the last Time-Lord, the one who saved your planet from the drakons before you migrated here. Listen to my heartbeat, I am a Time-Lord."

He had visited the planet Grenavlia with Clara once and they had saved these poor little creatures from the other alien race called the Drakons which were remarkably similar to dragons. He knew that centuries later, stories about the 'great Time-Lord' who saved them all were still told to children before bed.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when Kreacher suddenly bowed to him deeply, tears of - pride? - in his eyes.

"I is honoured to serve yous, master!" He said in his cracking voice. The Doctor smiled gently at him, "Don't call me master, Kreacher, now, please would you return to Grimmauld Place?"

Then with another loud crack, the elf disappeared and the Doctor turned back to Dumbledore who was now standing, eyes twinkling with cheerfulness.

"Well, that simplifies matters," Said Dumbledore cheerfully, "Very admirably done, Harry." He paused for a second as if gathering his thoughts together, "There is also the matter of the Hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements -"

"No," The Doctor said at once. He already had to worry about fixing the two universes... No, he couldn't take care of the hippogriff. "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak will prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together, "He will be thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Now, though, Harry, I suggest we leave!"

The Doctor blinked at the sudden change of topic and quickly followed Dumbledore to the hall, where Dumbledore had already tapped the trunk and the cage with his wand and they instantly disappeared. The Doctor then followed Dumbledore outside where the old man offered him his good arm. And with a loud crack, they disappeared from Privet Drive.

* * *

**Wow, that was a long chapter... I hope you enjoyed it and my explanation of magic.  
**

**I also apologize from taking so much from the book... :I**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and I look forward to reading your reviews. **


	3. Chapter 3

**_Wow,_ this chapter is my longest yet. Hell, it's even longer than the whole story!**

**I have to apologize beforehand for the amount of text taken from the books. :D Sorry. Thank you so much for reading so far and double thanks to those who reviewed :D ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Doctor Who**

**Oh yeah, and Dumbledore likers - sorry beforehand. **

* * *

_And with a loud crack, they disappeared from Privet Drive._

...

The Doctor grinned as they appeared in a small village, quickly gulping great lungfuls of cold night air. Ah! Finally something similar to his own world! That must have been something similar to vortex travel only more nauseating. It had felt as if he was being forced through a very tight rubber tube.

Looking around himself, the Doctor realized they had appeared in a small square in a deserted village, in the centre of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. Finally his gaze fell on Dumbledore who was looking at him curiously.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him. The Doctor grinned at him.

"Never better! Finally something related to vortex's!" He exclaimed to himself. Seconds later he mentally slapped himself. Right, and he was trying to hide his new status as the Doctor.

"Are you sure, my dear boy?" Dumbledore said, seemingly ignoring the vortex comment, "The sensation does take some time to get accustomed to."

"So tell me, Harry, your scar... has it been hurting at all?"

"Er... no." The Doctor muttered. Oh shit. He'd forgotten about their connection. His eyes widened a few seconds later. Double shit! The Horcruxes! One inside him! Bugger, buggerty, shit!

"Harry?" The Doctor was jerked out of his thoughts when the old wizard put a hand on his shoulder, making both of them stop walking, and he raised his wide eyes to look at Dumbledore who was staring at him with concern and as the Doctor stared into the Headmaster's eyes he finally understood.

That was it!

Of course! How could he have not seen it before? Harry Potters death via the killing curse (courtesy of Tom Riddle) had been a fixed point in time, but then Lily Potter had created a blood/love sacrifice, ensuring his survival. This had created a hole in the wall which stood between the two neighbouring universes, namely Harry Potter's and the Doctor's. Then, while the Doctor had been travelling through time and space he must have come close to the hole in the wall which separated the two universes and got his Time-Lord essence, the fob watch and the TARDIS, sucked into Harry Potter's universe. Every person, creature and even plant in every universe had its counterpart in other universe. Harry Potter was his counterpart here, so the Doctor's Time-Lord essence had been attached to the fob watch which then went to little Harry. Then it had opened when it could no longer be contained and attached itself to Harry Potter, his counterpart. Then, the hole in the wall had sealed itself.

But what had happened to his body in the other world? It was now probably human as it had been robbed of its Time-Lord-ness Ah, yes, it was probably transported to Clara's house, via the teleportation device which he had hung around his neck and would theoretically transport him there whenever he was in immediate danger. Well, it was a relief to know that Clara was probably taking care of him now.

So all he had to do, to return to his universe, with the TARDIS was create another hole in the wall and slip through it. But what could be big enough change to cause that? After all, this universe seemed to be mostly in flux and the fixed events seemed to be minor things. Well, one of the big fixed events was that Harry Potter destroyed all the horcruxes. The other was the death of Voldemort. He couldn't change either of those. That would throw this universe into despair and he couldn't allow that. He was the Doctor.

"Harry?" Once more, he was jerked out of his thoughts by a blackened, shrivelled hand waving in front of his face, and another, on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He blinked several times, and flinched when he saw the tormented hand.

"Sir, what happened to your hand-" The Doctor asked, staring at it, faintly remembering that Tom Riddle had put a curse on the Gaunt ring which Dumbledore had then tried to slip on. Dumbledore chose to ignore him and instead shook him one more time.

"Harry, are you alright? Is it Voldemort? Are you ill?" He said urgently. The Doctor shook his head, grinning, happy that he had finally figured it out.

"No, no, I'm fine sir. Professor, what happened to your hand?" He tried again. This time, Dumbledore looked away, concern still clear in his eyes.

"There is a time and place for everything, Harry. This is neither the time, nor the place for such discussions." The older man said and started walking again. The Doctor's easily kept up with him, now that his legs were much longer.

"Now, Harry, I give you full permission to use any counter-jinx or -curse that might occur to you," The man said as he stopped in front of a house, gazing at it intently. The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he saw that the door-hinges had been manually taken off, leaving the door hanging at an odd angle. Whoever did that to the door, wanted it to appear as if he/she had been robbed or kidnapped.

"Where are we?" The Doctor asked as he pulled his wand out, feeling the tingling warmth spread throughout his body, similar to the reaction he had from his sonic-screwdriver but less intense.

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton." Dumbledore said, raising his wand to point it at the door as well. He started to advance slowly, waving his wand in intricate motions, probably tearing down _wards_ of some sort.

"And why exactly are we here?" The Doctor asked, knowing perfectly well that Dumbledore wanted him to say that. Dumbledore paused and frowned as he stared up at the house, then he resumed wand-waving, probably having encountered an obscure ward.

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you," Said Dumbledore. _No shit, Sherlock, _thought the Doctor. "Well, I have lost the count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

"And you wish to use my influence and power to persuade him to do so?" The Doctor said, inwardly smirking - "My my, professor, how very Slytherin of you."

The Doctor saw Dumbledore glance at him from the corner of his eye, frowning a little. Inwardly, the Doctor did a whoop of triumph - he'd managed to ruffle the Headmaster. There was a small snap as the last ward crumbled into ruins, and Dumbledore (with the Doctor following close behind) opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path.

When they had managed to throw the door to the side, both men entered the house, casting _lumos _charms.

The Doctor gasped silently at the intense feeling that run up and down his body as he tested out his first _spell _as the Doctor. Dumbledore must have interpreted his gasp as one of horror because he put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder as if trying to comfort him.

After all, the room was a scene of devastation. A grandfather clock, similar to the one the Weasley's had, lay splintered at their feet, it's face cracked and its pendulum lying a little further away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. There wasn't a sign of a body.

There was something about the room though, that made the Doctor think that it looked more like a stage at a play. It seemed like everything had its own place, its own use for the actor to play in. Raising his wand, to cast more light on the room, the Doctor noticed there was a very vividly pink overstuffed but surprisingly undamaged armchair lying on its side in the corner. Frowning, he approached the armchair, wishing dearly for his sonic-screwdriver, but first he'd have to find the TARDIS.

"Not pretty is it?" Dumbledore said, as he walked up to the Doctor, gazing at the armchair thoughtfully. He suddenly smiled at the Doctor, "Well done, Harry!"

A this moment, the Doctor was sure that Dumbledore would have clapped his hands together if not for the fact that his wand was clutched in his hand. Then suddenly, Dumbledore jabbed his sharply wand into the arm-chair.

And then, suddenly, to fast for human eyes to follow (but not for the Doctors), where a second ago, there had been an overstuffed armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no reason to stick the wand in that hard," He said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt." He said rubbing his stomach.

The wand light sparkled on his shiny forehead, his prominent eyes, his enormous silver walrus-like moustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pyjamas. The top of his head barely reached the Doctor's chin, who was suddenly happy he'd had the enormous growth spurt.

"What gave it away?" He asked finally. Before Dumbledore could say anything, the Doctor offered his hand which the man quickly shook, frowning as if trying to figure out who he was.

"Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." The Doctor said, watching happily as the man's eyes widened. "The door hinges were manually screwed off, and your arm-chair was the only thing in the room which wasn't damaged."

The Doctor could almost feel Dumbledore's eyes twinkling behind him as he stepped back to stand at old man's side. "This is Horace Slughorn, my former colleague." Dumbledore said when Slughorn failed to introduce himself.

"Now, would you like some assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked, peering Slughorn who had started gazing about with a worried glance.

"Please," said the other.

They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion. A little grin crept onto the Doctor's face as he saw this, they looked like two comic characters.

Instantly, the furniture flew back to its original place, ornaments re-formed in mid-air; feathers zoomed back into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves ans they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks and holes healed themselves everywhere. It reminded the Doctor of when one was typing up a text and one accidentally clicked on the undo button.

"So that's how you thought to persuade me, is it?" Shouted Slughorn as the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling. There was also a final plunk from the piano, and silence as Slughorn gestured at the Doctor. "Well, the answer is still no." The man continued as he gazed at the Doctor with a hungry expression. Not sexually. That would scare the Doctor.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, manipulative as ever, "For old times' sake?"

Slughorn hesitated, "All right then, one drink," He said ungraciously, moving over to the liquor cabinet. He quickly got two julep glasses from the cabinet and poured some whiskey into both of them. Slughorn then gave Dumbledore one of the glasses. He then grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and passed it to the Doctor with a polite smile.

They then proceeded to sink into the two sofas facing each other. The Doctor manoeuvred himself so that he sat next to Dumbledore, but in Slughorn's main line of sight. He caught Dumbledore's gaze at the corner of his eye. His eyes were twinkling again.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked, finally after an awkward and slightly grumpy silence. The shorter man (so short in fact that his feet didn't even reach the floor) glared at Dumledore.

"Not so well," Said Slughorn, "Weak chest, wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," Said Dumbledore, clearly not believing him completely, "You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

"Two. I didn't hear my intruder charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," He said half-irritably, half-proudly, "The fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few comforts."

Ha! Old age! That man couldn't be older than eighty. Then again, these were humans, not Time-Lords. But still, in comparison... Well, the Doctor was pretty sure he was over nine-hundred years in human time. In the Time-Lord calendar he was still a boy... or teenager.

"You are not yet as old as I am, Horace," said Dumbledore. How old was Dumbledore? Probably somewhere between 100 and 120.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," Said Slughorn bluntly. His eyes lowered down to Dumbledore's shrivelled hand. "Reactions not what they used to be, I see."

Dumbledore leaned back into the sofa, covering his hand unconsciously, as if to hide his failure. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand..." He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations.

"So all these precautions against intruders... are they for the Death-Eaters' benefit, or mine?" Asked Dumbledore.

"What would the Death-Eaters want with an old buffer like me?" Demanded Slughorn. The Doctor grinned at him, catching his eyes.

"I imagine, that they would use your potion talents to coercion, torture and murder." The Doctor said gazing at him challengingly. Slughorn frowned and turned to Dumbledore.

"Did you tell him about my being a potions master?" He asked suspiciously. Dumbledore shook his head, eyes twinkling.

"No, he didn't. It might have something to do with the fact that your fingers are littered with smudges from potions when they spilled, your sleeves got a fair share of them as well. Or it might be due to the fact that the certificate on the desk there clearly states that you are a potions master. And you have been moving a lot lately, most likely to escape your kidnapping which _will _happen eventually." The Doctor said grinning. Slughorn stared at him.

"You have a sharp eye, eh?" Slughorn said, gazing at him speculatively.

"Not as sharp as Sherlock Holmes's, but, yes, sharp." Slughorn looked confused at that.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He asked curiously.

"Muggle literary character."The Doctor said smiling as he remembered Arthur Conan Doyle, the real genius. Eventually, after so many years writing about Sherlock Holmes, the man had managed to attain the same skills... and habits.

"Ah, muggle." The man said emotionlessly. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dumbledore only to see that the man had disappeared. Probably to the bathroom.

"Oh! You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" He said quickly, "No, no! On the contrary! I knew your mother, she was my favourite student! Muggle-born wasn't she? And there was Dirk Cresswell, in the year after her, too - now the head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course - another Muggle-born... He still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!" He stood up and walked to the desk, quickly followed by the Doctor who took a sip from his butterbeer.

Slughorn quickly pointed at a picture of a man shaking hands with a goblin, there was a signature at the bottom of the page. "See, that's Dirk..." He then gestured to the rest of the pictures. "All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear about my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flumme, of Honeydukes - a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back - you'll see her if you just crane your neck - that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies... people are always astonished to hear I'm on first name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!" This seemed to cheer him up somewhat.

"And all these people knew where to find you to send you stuff?" The Doctor asked, digging the knife deeper into the wound. Slughorn winced and slumped a little.

"Of course not." He said looking away, "I have been out of touch with everybody for about a year." It seemed the words shocked the man himself.

The Doctor grinned, step 1. complete.

"Well, if you were to come back to Hogwarts... you could have all of those things, additional comfort... and maximum security. Not only from Dumbledore, but from my defence group as well." Ah, the DA, that would reassure Slughorn. The man's head jerked upwards and he had to crane his neck a little to look straight into the Doctor's eyes.

"Defence group?" He asked quietly. Step 2. complete.

"Yes, you didn't know?" The Doctor asked, mocking him a little, "I created a group last year called... ah, defence association. DA. They are highly trained students that will protect Hogwarts at any cost." Well, that wasn't necessarily true...

"And where do you stand?" Slughorn asked eagerly.

"I am their leader." The Doctor said with finality as Slughorn suddenly straightened, obviously convinced. Step 3. Complete. Target.: Complete.

And then suddenly, very conveniently, Dumbledore entered the room, holding a stack of knitting magazines in his hands. Slughorn jumped slightly, as if he'd forgotten that he was there.

"Excuse me, I went to the bathroom." He said eyes twinkling.

"Upset stomach?" Slughorn said uneasily.

"Hardly, I do love knitting patterns. If you allow me, I shall take these with me." He said holding up the stack. Slughorn stared at him and waved his hand in agreement.

"Well, Harry, we have trespassed Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it's time for us to leave."

"You're leaving?" Slughorn asked, almost disappointingly as he gazed at the Doctor who was now smiling at him. In other words: sucking up.

"Yes, I know a lost cause when I see one..." Dumbledore said as he gazed pointedly at Slughorn who blinked. Once, twice and-

"Fine! You manipulative old man! Fine! I'll do it!" With that, the man scrambled off to the next room. The Doctor and Dumbledore then proceeded to leave the house, cross the garden and close the gate behind them.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said happily. The Doctor grinned back at him.

"My pleasure, professor."

"Did you like him?" Dumbledore asked.

"I was starting to..." Dumbledore glanced at him as they started walking.

"Horace," he paused, gathering his thoughts, "Likes his comforts. He also surrounds himself with the famous, the successful and the powerful. He enjoys sitting on the throne, in the shadows. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a club of sorts, of his favourites, with himself in the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members and always reaping some kind of benefit in return." The wizard paused again. "I tell you all this, not to turn you against Horace, but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You will be the jewel of his collection: the boy who lived... or as they call you these days, the Chosen One."

This caused the Doctor to remember the Horcruxes again and the one in his forehead. He could technically put some basilisk poison in there, after all, as a Time-Lord, the poison wouldn't affect him to much and would eventually come out of his body.

"This will do, Harry," Dumbledore said, holding out his arm to the Doctor. "If you will grasp my arm..."

Apparition this time was even awesome-er. And the familiar sense of euphoria the Doctor usually got when he travelled returned to him for a few seconds... but then they were back on Earth. Apparating was really nothing more than forcing yourself into the vortex and quickly, in a matter of seconds travelling through it and appearing in some other place. This was, technically a simplified form of time-travel.

The Doctor frowned as he looked around him. They were standing on a country lane and looking up at the top of the hill, he could see the crooked silhouette of the Burrow. The Doctor turned to Dumbledore, still frowning.

"Professor, I specifically requested to go to the Black Manor. Now that I think about it, I don't have to request anything, this is my life and you are simply my Headmaster. Nothing more." The Doctor said coldly, staring at Dumbledore defiantly who was just staring back, twinkle gone and looking slightly surprised.

"Harry... This is for your own good. It's dangerous for you out there."

"No, Headmaster. You have been trying to shape me into a perfect weapon. While I admit, you are a powerful wizard and a good headmaster, you are crossing lines here; lines that should not be crossed."

Dumbledore frowned, eyes suddenly cold. The Doctor could already feel the man's aura acting up. Ha! He'd managed to ruffle him again! 2:0!

"Then, Harry Potter, forgive me for what I am about to do," Dumbledore said in a dangerous voice and raised his wand, pointing it at the Doctor's head. "_Obliviate_." He intoned.

...

**Right, I was actually intending to have a cliff-hanger here, but... Sorry, Dumbledore likers. :D**

...

The Doctor inwardly scowled as Dumbledore led him to the back door of the Burrow which was surrounded by Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons. In the distance, the Doctor could hear the familiar clucking of the chickens. His mind was elsewhere though,

That old coot! Now he was pretty sure he hated JK Rowling for describing him so horribly. She hadn't even mentioned him being manipulative! And anyway, how could she have not created a Doctor in this universe?

The Doctor fumed silently as Dumbledore knocked on the door. How could that man try to obliviate him? Fortunately, Time-Lords and humans had different types of frequency ranges. For example if the Doctor were to go to a human hospital and do an electroencephalography of his brain, the machine would go haywire. So, when Dumbledore threw an _obliviate _(something which was designed specifically for humans) at him, it didn't do any damage whatsoever.

The door opened slightly, because of a huge security chain which the Doctor thought was absolutely useless, as wizards could simply blast it apart if they wanted to break in.

"Who's there?" Said a nervous voice that the Doctor (from Harry's memories) recognized as Molly Weasley's, "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry." Dumbledore said imperiously, making the Doctor scowl inwardly once more. No one ever messed with his mind. Ever. Or tried to. The door opened at once and the Doctor forced himself from rolling his eyes. Dumbledore hadn't even given any proof who he was, yet because of the name, Molly Weasley instantly trusted him.

As the door opened, Mrs Weasley was revealed, a short, plump woman with flaming red hair and wearing an old green dressing gown.

"Harry, dear!" She said, after she had yanked the door open, "Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you told us not to expect you till morning!"

"We were lucky," Said the man, pushing the Doctor gently over the threshold, something that did not help mend his grudge against Dumbledore, "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

As the Doctor looked around the familiar living room/kitchen/dining room, he noticed not much had changed. The hands on the grandfather clock standing in the living room area were all pointing at mortal danger, all except the one with Arthur Weasley's face and name on it.

Despite the lateness, Mrs. Weasley wasn't alone. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy-brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large steaming mug between her hands. Her hair looked dirty, like it hadn't been washed in a long time, and she had large dark rings under her eyes. Her skin on her face sank a little like that of a person who hadn't slept a lot in quite a while.

"Hello, Professor," she said, glancing up and the Doctor noticed that her eyes made her look much older and sadder, "Wotcher, Harry,"

"Hello, Tonks," The Doctor said with a goofy grin, hoping to cheer her up. She looked drawn, even ill and there was something forced in her smile when she looked at him.

"I'd better be off," she said quickly, standing up and pulling her travelling cloak around her bony shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

Then with that she tried to hurry past Dumbledore after she had ruffled the Doctor's hair. Tried being the key word. The Doctor had grabbed her arm and spun her around to meet his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Tonks," he said lowly and released her, "Sirius was reckless and after being confined for so long he needed to have some fun... Just remember, it's not your fault." She smiled at him sadly.

"It's not yours either," She said silently and swept past Dumbledore and into the yard where she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air with a loud crack.

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry," Said Dumbledore. "I still have a meeting with the new minister. Take care of yourself." He then bowed his head to Mrs. Weasley, and followed Tonks vanishing at precisely the same spot. The Doctor scowled as the man disappeared. The moron.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and closed the door on the empty yard and then steered the Doctor to the table into the full glow of the lantern to examine his appearance. She gasped as she looked at him and she nodded happily.

"You're like Ron," She said, "Both of you look as though you've had stretching jinxes put on you. I reckon you are about as tall as Ron now. Ah finally blooming, are we? Half of Hogwarts is going to be lusting after you now!"

The Doctor blinked at her, him _handsome? _And _lusting? _God, this woman had delusions.

"Are you hungry, Harry?" She asked gesturing at the soup pot that stood steaming over the fire-place.

"Do you have fish fingers and custard?" He asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't eaten since earlier that day. Thinking back, the Doctor realized a lot of things had happened in the last 24 hours. Mrs. Weasley blinked at him.

"Fish fingers? Do fishes even have fingers?" She asked. The Doctor frowned at her, "Fish," He muttered. The plural of fish was... fish.

"Sorry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, as she gazed at him.

"Er... Nothing, it's a Muggle thing. Do you have Jammie dodgers?" Come on, wizards must have heard of that one. She shook her head. "Then tea, if you have any." He always had some food problems after re-generation. Well, that hadn't really been regeneration, but it had left him craving fish fingers and custard.

As he sat down at the place Mrs. Weasley offered to him, a furry ginger cat suddenly bolted from under the table, hissing and spitting at the Doctor who just frowned back. Urgh, he _hated _cats. With passion. And they hated him. With passion. Perhaps because they sensed the alien in him?

"So Hermione's here?" He asked as the cat bolted up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley nodded as she passed the steaming mug of to him and put Tonks's into the sink.

"Oh, yes, she arrived the day before yesterday," Said Mrs. Weasley, washing the mug. She then turned around, leaned against the kitchen counter, grabbed a towel and started drying wet plates and glasses the Doctor hadn't seen earlier. "Everyone's in bed, of course, we didn't expect you for several hours..."

"You know, Arthur recently got promoted!" She exclaimed suddenly, interrupting the comfortable silence. The Doctor smiled at her, "That's great! What does he do now?"

"Oh, yes, you know Rufus Scrimgeour the new minister, has set up several new offices in response to the current situation," She paused and the Doctor had the sudden feeling no one wanted to say the word 'war' yet. "Anyway, Arthur is working in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. You know, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard you against You-Know-Who and the Death-Eaters. You get these sort of protective - potions that are really gravy with a bit of Bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off... Well, mainly people like Mundungus Fletcher."

"And he's still at work?" The Doctor asked as he gestured to the grandfather clock.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late... he said he'd be back at around midnight..." They both turned to gaze at the clock. As the Doctor was about to turn away, the hand with Arthur Weasley's name suddenly moved to travelling and then, as there was a crack outside, the hand moved to mortal danger. So technically what the clock was saying was that 'work' was safer than 'home'.

A moment later, there was a loud knock at the door and Mrs Weasley quickly jumped up to open in.

"Arthur is that you?" She asked. And there was a soft 'yes' from outside.

"Right... What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how aeroplanes stay up." The Doctor chuckled silently when he heard this.

"What do I call you when we are alone together?" Came from the other side of the door and the Doctor could see a silent flush creeping onto Mrs Weasley's face.

"Mollywobbles," She whispered to the lock and then quickly opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty travelling cloak. He quickly threw it off and hung it on the coat hanger.

"Something smells good - onion soup?" He asked, sniffing the air dramatically. His eyes finally rested on the Doctor who had stood up to greet the man.

They shook hands and Mr Weasley remarked on his no considerable height, just as Mrs. Weasley had done. They sat back down, Mrs. Weasley dropping a bowl of soup in front of her husband who quickly grabbed his spoon and started eating.

"Do _you _know how aeroplanes fly, Harry?" Mr Weasley asked happily if a little tiredly. The Doctor grinned and launched into an explanation.

"Aeroplanes fly because they are able to generate a force called **Lift** which normally moves the aeroplane upward. **Lift** is generated by the forward motion of the aeroplane through the air. This motion is produced by the **Thrust** of the engine. **Drag **is the force produced by the resistance of the air to the forward motion of the aeroplane." The Doctor paused to see if the Weasley was following. He wasn't. At all.

"Right, I'll give you a book about it." The Doctor said after a few awkward moments. Using the silence to his advantage, he fake yawned behind his hand, he wasn't really tired, he just wanted to get out of there and leave the two to talk.

"Bed," said Mrs Weasley at once. "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, you'll have it all to yourself."

"Why? Were are they?" As soon as he said it, the Doctor faintly remembered that the twins had created a joke shop in Diagon Alley and gone to live there as well.

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in their little flat over their joke shop as they're to busy," Said Mrs. Weasley, "I must say, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dear, your trunk's already up there."

"Good night, Mr Weasley," Said the Doctor pushing his chair back, making a loud scratching noise that echoed through the house. He winced as he looked up at the ceiling, hopefully he hadn't woken anyone up. Mr Weasley just chuckled and bade him good night.

Mrs. Weasley then led him upstairs to the bedroom from which everyone could usually hear loud explosions coming from, and quickly turned the lights on with a flick of her wand. She bade him good night and quickly made her way downstairs, to her husband. The Doctor grinned as he closed the door behind him. This room was more like him! Chaos! Finally!

A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast of unmarked, sealed card-board boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk and Hedwig's cage which was empty. Someone must have let her out.

The room looked like a temporary warehouse for the Weasley products and belongings.

Removing his jacket, the Doctor straightened his suspenders and clapped his hands together. He didn't feel like sleeping, sleeping and patience was for wimps! Besides, this room was filled to the brim with Weasley products, inventions and their belongings! Those two were simply geniuses! He had to check out their things.

...

It was almost eleven o'clock when the door to his room was thrown open, just as the Doctor was reaching for a book about pranks on one of the top shelves. As he glanced up, the Doctor was barely able to see a bushy haired girl before she engulfed him in a hug. Chuckling, he hugged Hermione back and rested his chin on her head for a second before releasing her. As she stepped back, Ron and the Doctor shared a manly hug, not quite as enthusiastic but nonetheless friendly.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed happily as Ron and the Doctor separated themselves from each other. "You've grown!"

The Doctor grinned at her as she examined him from head to toe, and he spun around once, making his coat flutter a little behind him as he had put it back on sometime during the early morning. "Hello." He said a little calmer than Hermione.

"We didn't know you were here already!" She exclaimed sitting, down on one of the beds as Ron sat on the other leaving the Doctor leaning against the large desk.

"All right?" Ron asked, probably referring to the events that happened at the end of their fifth year, or perhaps the summer. Either way, the Doctor shrugged, nodding slightly, a smile slowly making its way onto his face when he saw Hermione staring at him suspiciously.

"When did you get here?" Hermione asked glancing at the unopened trunk and at the perfectly made beds.

"About one o'clock this morning," The Doctor replied wincing slightly when he glanced at his clothes. Now Hermione would think he was suffering of insomnia. Which he was. Kind of.

"Were the Muggles all right?" Ron asked, scrunching up his nose in disgust at the thought of the Dursleys, "Did they treat you ok?"

"Yeah. Fine." The Doctor said scowling inwardly, remembering the night when Vernon had locked him out. Not that he hadn't liked it falling asleep under the stars... Vernon just didn't seem to have any morals. Hermione looked oddly at him again.

"How are you? Ron, Hermione?" He asked finally as he adjusted his bow-tie and straightened his suspenders.

"We're fine..." Hermione said scrutinizing him as if looking for some sign of sickness.

"What's up with the bow-tie mate? And the dorky glasses?" Ron asked, a grin stretching on his face. The Doctor grinned at him.

"Bow-ties are cool," He _loved _saying that! Ah yes, the _dorky _glasses. That was odd, they were obviously Amy's glasses and he had found them in his trouser pocket in the early morning. That meant that the TARDIS was slowly returning his things to him. Hopefully, she would come back as well. He raised his hand to the glasses and quickly ripped them off his face, putting them back in his pocket. Call it nostalgia.

Hermione frowned at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Er... I had laser surgery this summer," He said as he fiddled with the glasses in his pocket. "I... er... found these glasses in an antique shop. They're actually quite fashionable." He said defensively. Ron laughed and grinned and turned to Hermione.

"He calls _that," _Ron waved a hand at Harry's clothing, "Fashionable!"

Hermione hushed him with one of her trademark glares and combed a hand through her bushy hair, gazing at Harry thoughtfully.

"Mrs. Weasley told us you were with Dumbledore last night, trying to convince a teacher to come out of retirement?"

Ron blinked as he looked at Hermione said that. "She said that?"

"Yes, Ronald, some of us weren't busy shoving as much food as we possibly could in our mouths."

"Er... Yes I was." The Doctor said quickly, before Ron could open his mouth to retort and they would start fighting again like an old married couple.

"So how was he?" Hermione asked, instantly interested. The Doctor shrugged.

"Well, he looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be the head of Slytherin... _and _he was the potions teacher."

"Potions? Do you reckon something happened to Snape?" Ron asked gleefully rubbing his hands together and looking suddenly very interested. Hermione glared at him again.

"Ron! Don't talk about teachers like that!" She turned back to the Doctor, "Well, did he seem like a good teacher?"

"Dunno," The Doctor replied, shrugging, "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Said a voice from the door way, and the Doctor snapped his head up only to see Ron's younger sister stumble into the room angrily, "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Asked Ron with a frown.

"It's _Fleur. Again._" She said angrily. The proverb, _speak of the Devil,_ could be applied here as seconds later, another young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair that appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. The Doctor smiled at her and stood up as she swept gracefully to him.

"'Arry," She said in a throaty voice, "Eet 'as been to long!"

The Doctor grinned at her and swooped down at her, kissing her on both cheeks as was custom in France. The Doctor almost groaned when he felt her sniff against his cheek and he remembered that Veelas had a surprisingly good sense of smell and hearing as they were aliens and descended from an alien race from the neighbouring galaxy. If he was correct, and something had happened while he was human, the planet still existed and thriving. He had visited them a couple of centuries back, and somehow a small dinner party had evolved into the biggest food fight the planet had seen. After that they never seemed too keen to let him visit.

Fleur had probably been to the planet with her grandmother who was full blooded and knew that Time-Lords had two hearts. No doubt she could smell his Time-Lord-ness, or even perhaps hear his two heart beats.

The Doctor sighed inwardly, and forced a rather unconvincing smile onto his face as she stepped back, frowning slightly.

"I 'ave been longing to see you!" She exclaimed, forcing a smile to her face, yet subtly sniffing the air, "You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh... is she here too?" The Doctor asked, leaning against the desk once more, gazing at the others in the room. Ron was showing him a thumbs up, Hermione had raised an eyebrow, and Ginny was glaring at the back of Fleur's head.

"No, no! I mean next summer, when Bill and I get married!" She seemed to have been exploding to say that. The Doctor grinned at her.

"Congratulations!" He exclaimed, ignoring the fact that Ginny and Hermione were trying to avoid each other's gazes.

Fleur grinned at him and ruffled his already messy hair, "You're sweet," she paused, "I 'ave to get back to Molly. I was 'elping her wiz ze lunch! It's almost ready!" Then with a tinkling laugh, she was gone once more.

"So, how was your summer, Harry? No glasses? The bow-tie?" Ginny said after a moment of silence. Okay, this was starting to get old.

Just as the Doctor was opening his mouth to say something, Ron interrupted him, "He says his clothes are fashionable! Ha! Fancy that!"

"He got laser surgery," Hermione added although she and Harry were both aware that the Weasleys had no idea what laser surgery was. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, making her look frighteningly similar to her mother. Walking to him, she adjusted his bow-tie.

"Well, I happen to think that bow-ties are cool." She said with a smile. The Doctor grinned at her, and glanced at Ron who was looking between them with a red, fuming face.

"I think it compliments my eyes," The Doctor said to Ron. Ginny laughed.

"Well, it hurts mine," Ron retorted, making all three laugh but making the Doctor scowl at him indignantly. They were interrupted when the door opened again, and Mrs Weasley head appeared over the side.

"Ginny," She whispered, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch." Her eyes suddenly darted between the Doctor and Ginny who were standing rather close to each other.

"I'm talking to this lot!" said Ginny outraged.

"Now!" Mrs Weasley said, and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" She said, spinning on her heel angrily, making her red hair swing around beautifully. The Doctor winced slightly as he saw this, Ginny reminding him of Amy. She then strutted out of the room in a very good imitation of Fleur.

"You lot had better come down quickly too," She said as she left the room. With that she was gone. The Doctor's eyes swept to Hermione who was watching him carefully, and he quickly cleared his face of all emotion, leaving a polite smile.

Hermione blushed as she realized she had been caught and started peering into the boxes, gazing at the odd things in them. Finally, she reached into one of the boxes the Doctor still hadn't managed to come to and pulled out a large black telescope.

"What's this?" She asked, holding the telescope up. The Doctor instantly strolled to her, excitedly. Finally! Something astrological! He took it from her and slowly ran a hand up and down the object.

"This," He paused, seeing the look of surprise on her face, "Is a CyclopsX3 telescope. Muggle actually, it's one of the new ones. It came out last year." Seeing Hermione's sceptical expression he rolled his eyes at her.

"I can like astrology! Can't I?" He asked her indignantly, Hermione took the telescope from him, gazing at it and looking for some kind of label.

"How did you know?" She finally asked him. The Doctor grinned at her and grabbed the telescope, pointing at the lenses.

"This is the first and only telescope with five lenses, one behind the other to enhance images of the stars. Ingenious isn't it?" He raised his eyes to look at Hermione and Ron who were looking at him with surprise. The three of them gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Then there was a loud bang and the Doctor vanished behind a puff of black smoke. Seconds later, he felt something punch him in the eye and he winced slightly in pain.

As the smoke cleared, he held the telescope to his now probably purple eyes and gazed at it thoughtfully. There now was a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end of the telescope.

"That... was odd." The Doctor said making Ron and Hermione laugh. Well, Ron laughed, Hermione just stared at him worriedly. The Doctor sat down on the bed which Hermione had just vacated and he gazed at the telescope/puncher.

That was interesting. Somehow, the twins had managed to create a pocket universe, to make the outside look different than the inside, much like the TARDIS. And it had worked on _him. _On _him. _They had also managed to create a perception filter which somehow worked on humans and Time-Lords alike. He'd have to examine that later, when the TARDIS gave him his screwdriver back.

"Don't worry, Mum'll fix that, she's good at healing minor injuries," Ron said, stifling a laugh. Hermione sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed again, next to the Doctor who was touching his eye, blinking away the tears every now and then.

"Harry," She rested her hand on the Doctor's palm, near his his wrist. "Are you all right?" She asked and the Doctor instantly nodded and smiled.

"I'm fine."

She sighed again. "Harry, I'm not just talking about the telescope... I mean... Sirius..." She said hesitating slightly. The Doctor smiled at her reassuringly.

"The _Daily Prophet _is giving you hell... Have you read it, mate?" Ron asked, gesturing at an old newspaper lying in the bin. The Doctor shrugged.

"Yeah, I read it once or twice. It just goes on and on about our night out at the Ministry and about the prophecy."

"Nobody knows what it said, though," Hermione said quickly, "It got smashed."

"Although the _Prophet _says -" Began Ron but Hermione said, "Shh!"

"The _Prophet _ got it right," Said the Doctor, rubbing his eye in pain, and leaning back against the wall, "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said," The Doctor paused, taking in their frightened expressions, "it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort... at least, it said neither of us can live while the other survives."

There was a moment of horrified silence which the Doctor broke accidentally by getting hit by the telescope a second time. This time, his chin.

Seconds later, Ron and Hermione started laughing, defusing the tense atmosphere quickly.

"But, you know, it's all right. I have you guys... And it doesn't really specify when I have to finish him off, so..." He was interrupted by a shout from downstairs that lunch was ready. The Doctor quickly stood up and sped to the door, holding it open to Ron and Hermione who stared at him in surprise.

"Davai, idiom!" He exclaimed to them. Ron and Hermione turned to each other, then to the Doctor who groaned.

"It's Russian for 'let's go!'" Seeing their blank faces, the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm never going to say that again." And with that, he left the room, leaving two very confused humans.

...

Lunch was a lively affair (or was until one point), with everyone trading insults, compliments and other... random things. The only one's there were Mrs. Weasley, Fleur, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the Doctor as Mr Weasley and Bill were still at work. Charlie was in Romania and Percy...

"Where's Percy? He can come to a family lunch, can't he? Or is he still busy writing reports about cauldrons?" The Doctor asked loudly. The table instantly went silent and the Doctor frowned a little. "Oh, sorry. It's odd how sometimes, things seem all right in your head but... Ow!" He exclaimed as he felt Hermione kick him under the table. Seeing the sad and almost depressive expression on Mrs. Weasley's face, the Doctor realized that this was probably not because of the cauldron joke.

"Er... I apologize, Mrs Weasley." He said slowly. Mrs. Weasley looked at him sadly, with shiny eyes.

"No, no, it's quite alright, Harry, dear. You didn't know." She said with a shaky voice. The silence that followed was soon interrupted though, when four owls swooped into the house through the open window and instantly flew over to Ginny, Hermione, Ron and the Doctor.

"OWLs," Hermione whispered. The Doctor grinned at her when she looked at him.

"Here goes nothing!" Ron exclaimed and grabbed the letter from the owl, getting a loud, angry squawk from it.

The Doctor took his letter calmly, absentmindedly stroking the owl's feathers, straightening the one's that were bent. He slit the envelope open and unfolded the parchment inside.

**ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS (OWLRs)**

**Pass grades:**

**Outstanding (o)**

**Exceeds Expectations (E)**

**Acceptable (A)**

**Fail Grades:**

**Poor (P)**

**Dreadful (D)**

**Troll (T)**

**HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:**

**Astronomy: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: E  
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: P  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: D  
Potions: E  
Transfiguration: E**

The Doctor smiled as he read through his OWLs. Overall, he wasn't that bad. Better than his marks at the academy had ever been, he was happy with that. He had failed all the subjects at the academy. His TARDIS-flying instructor had once mentioned that if he could, he would do anything to prevent the Doctor from ever having to fly it.

The astronomy grade was a little disappointing. You'd thing that after over a thousand years of travelling the universe he'd be able to do the exam with closed eyes. But to be fair, he had been distracted by McGonagall. _And _at the time, he was still human.

He swapped with Ron and grinned when he saw the seven OWLs that Ron had managed to receive.

"Hermione?" Asked Ginny gently, as Hermione was still slumped in her seat, "How did you do?"

"I - not bad," Said Hermione in a small voice. Ron rolled his eyes and grabbed her OWL test scores from her hand.

"Not bad, she says..." He paused, examining it, "Nine Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations in DADA!" He looked at Hermione who was looking at them with wide eyes. The Doctor passed Ron's OWL letter to his mother who was trying to read it over his shoulder and she smiled gratefully at him.

"You're actually disappointed, aren't you?" Ron asked looking at Hermione fondly. Hermione shook her head quickly, making everyone laugh.

...

The rest of the day was spent playing Quidditch and swimming in the small pond near the Burrow. After dinner though, when everyone had retired to their rooms, the Doctor crept silently down the stairs and outside where he lay down on the soft carpet of grass, and gazed up at the sky, twinkling with stars. The duck pond was currently silent. This was what he loved most about the universe. Yes, he liked running about saving people, saving planets, saving galaxies... Hell! Even the universe once in a while... But after some time, of running... he liked to lie down and stare at the stars, and just... relax.

"Hello Harry,"

The Doctor lowered his eyes slightly to look at Hermione who was standing in front of him, with a worried expression. She was dressed in her pyjamas and had a long morning robe wrapped around her shoulders. The Doctor smiled at her and patted the grass next to him as an invitation. She smiled and lay down next to him.

"I heard you coming down the stairs. They creak a lot." She said. The Doctor shrugged and looked up at the stars again.

"Sorry if I woke you." He finally said after several minutes of silence.

"No it's all right. I couldn't sleep."

"Insomnia?"

"No. You?" Hermione said, worriedly. The Doctor shrugged.

"Possibly. I don't know. I don't sleep for more than an hour at night." He said. Hermione made a sound of surprise.

"How can you possibly function then? Humans need sleep for their nerves and their brain to relax a little?!"

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor said - "I'm an alien, Hermione."

"Like a foreigner?" She asked weakly.

"Pretty foreign... From up there," Said the Doctor pointing at the sky.

"From Scotland?"

"Close." They chuckled. "Hermione, I'm serious now... I am an alien. How should I prove it?" He turned his head to the side, as Hermione propped herself onto one elbow and looked down at him thoughtfully.

"Fine, do something only an alien could do," She said humouring him, disbelief clear in her eyes. Smiling, the Doctor took her hand and put it on one side of his chest.

"Do you feel my heart-beat?" He asked her. She nodded, confusion mixing with the disbelief. He then guided her hand to the other side of his chest and she gasped, letting herself fall back to the ground.

"You have two hearts?" She asked, amazed. The Doctor grinned at her and nodded.

"Yes, and 27 brains." She looked at him with disbelief and he rolled his eyes. "Fine, I have one brain. BUT, with the capacity of 27!"

"Say I believe you-"

"You do believe me," He interrupted but she ignored him.

"-what species are you?"

"Gallifreyan. Time-Lord, meaning I can travel through time and space." He said quietly, turning his gaze back to the stars, remembering what a beauty Gallifrey had been.

"You can travel through time? _And _space?" She asked sceptically and the Doctor could almost see her raised eyebrow.

"Yes. My race.. We developed a machine called the TARDIS. Short for Time And Relative Dimension(s) In Space. The official name is actually TT Capsule, but no one ever uses - used that name."

"Used?"

"Er... yes, my home is gone... There was a war... Anyway, I'm the last one left."

"I'm sorry." Hermione seemed truly sorry and when the Doctor turned his head to look at her, she was staring at him with shining eyes.

"And Harry? What's happened to him?"

"Well, the world is built in a way that most humans can't understand. There a fixed points in time - meaning they cannot be changed - and there are points in time which are in flux - meaning they can be changed as much as you want."

"How can you tell which is which?" Hermione asked.

"Because that is how I see the universe. Every waking second I can see what was or could be, or what must not. It is the burden of a Time-Lord and I'm the last one left." He paused, "Harry Potter's death via the killing curse had been a fixed point in time, but then Lily Potter had created a blood/love sacrifice, ensuring his survival. Just so you know: MAGIC IS SCIENCE. This created a hole in the wall which stood between the two neighbouring universes, namely Harry Potter's and mine."

"You're from an alternate universe?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Yes," Said the Doctor nodding, "I was sucked in, or rather my Time-Lord-i-ness (my memories and DNA) and stored itself in a fob watch which then hung itself around baby Harry Potter's. So my body, in my universe is now human, until I manage to send myself back. Anyway, I got sucked into this universe because I happened to be near the place where the hole was created. Then the hole sealed itself. You have to understand that everything in every universe has its counterpart. I happened to be Harry Potter's." He withdrew the fob watch from his pocket and passed it to Hermione, "This is a fob watch. I can basically put my DNA and memories in there and turn into any species. And when I open it again, the memories and DNA will come back to me. That is what happened this summer. It opened and I became a Time-Lord again. I'm still Harry Potter... but he's buried inside."

Silence.

"And how can you go back? To your own universe?" She finally asked. He sighed.

"I would have to change another fixed point in time. A major one. And the only two major ones in this universe are Voldemort's death and the other... well that would take a long time to explain. Either way, I can't change either one because that would mean Voldemort would eventually win. Then, (theoretically of course) if I so this, I would have to put my Time-Lord Essence back into the Fob watch and then make someone throw it into the hole in the universe... Harry would become Harry again."

Silence. Again.

"You mentioned that magic is science, earlier." She said, frowning as she sat up. The Doctor nodded, putting his hands behind his head as some sort of pillow. "And in science, you can take elements away from mixtures and mix infinite amounts of elements together, correct?" The Doctor nodded once more and sat up, staring at Hermione, waiting for her to make her point. "So, technically, you could take magic away from a person. Theoretically, you could do the same to Voldemort. He would lose the Death Eater's support and you would defy a fixed point in time!"

This time it was the Doctor staring at her in shock and Hermione was the one smiling smugly.

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**Wow, long chapter...  
**

**I think I deserve some reviews now... Just joking... :D**

**Thank you so much for reading, and sorry again for taking so much from the books. Future chapters wont be like this. **

**THIS IS IMPORTANT! Please tell me if you want Steven Moffat and some of the other Doctor Who actors and writers in the story! Thanks. :D This chapter has about 10,000 words now... Isn't that amazing? I have never, ever written such a long chapter... Anyway, I'm rambling now, thanks for reading.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ha! New chapter! Well... It's taken me some time to update this, but I've been focusing on other stories... In case you're interested, go to my profile page, I have two new stories; It takes one to know one (Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover) and The Doctor's son (Harry Potter and Doctor Who crossover).**

**Anyway, just ignore that small advert... And well enjoy! Disclaimer: Blah, bla, bla, all the typical I don't own Doctor Who and Harry Potter. **

* * *

_"You mentioned that magic is science, earlier." She said, frowning as she sat up. The Doctor nodded, putting his hands behind his head as some sort of pillow. "And in science, you can take elements away from mixtures and mix infinite amounts of elements together, correct?" The Doctor nodded once more and sat up, staring at Hermione, waiting for her to make her point. "So, technically, you could take magic away from a person. Theoretically, you could do the same to Voldemort. He would lose the Death Eater's support and you would defy a fixed point in time!"_

_This time it was the Doctor staring at her in shock and Hermione was the one smiling smugly._

...

"You GENIUS!" The Doctor cried out, jumping to his feet and then jerking Hermione up to join him. He spun her around in his arms, and then kissed her fore-head happily. "You utter, genius!" He muttered, stepping away and starting to pace, "How could I have not seen that before?" He muttered to himself.

"Never mind!" He finally cried out, spinning himself to face Hermione who was staring at him with amusement. "Do you want to go to muggle London?"

Hermione frowned and looked up at the Burrow which was completely dark, everyone having retired to their rooms already. "London? Har-"

The Doctor waved his hand to interrupt her, "Nope! Call me Doctor when no one's around." Hermione raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"People actually call you 'the Doctor'? Besides isn't that from that show... Er, Doctor Who? My friend watched it when she was small. Wait... are you the Doctor from Doctor Who? Come to think of it, there are several similarities."

"Weeellll, yes. They do." The Doctor said grinning at her. Hermione rolled her eyes. "And yes. As I told you earlier in this universe, my world is fiction, in mine, yours is. Therefore, it makes sense that my life is in television..." Well, that technically meant that when he left, Harry Potter would have to become the actor for the role of 'the Doctor'. Hermione seemed to mull this over. Finally she nodded in acceptance.

"What's your first name then? 'The'?" She frowned in thought, "Come to think of it... No parent would call their child 'the Doctor'. It's like calling your child 'the plumber' or 'the pothole repairer'. What's your real name then?"

"Er... Sherlock?" The Doctor said sticking his hands in his pockets, his right fiddling with the glasses and his other... wait was that a wallet? He didn't notice Hermione roll her eyes, as suddenly all his attention was on the small wallet that he had found in his pocket -

"The psychic paper!" He said kissing the leather wallet which held the psychic paper and holding it up at the sky in triumph. "How convenient." The Doctor said, lowering his arm and gazing at the little leather wallet which had travelled with him for so long and helped him out so much. He mentally thanked the TARDIS wherever she was and got a hum in response.

"H-Doctor?" Hermione said, making him snap out of his daze. Hmm, that seemed to be happening a lot lately. "What is that?"

"It's called psychic paper. Aaaaaaanyway! Muggle London, was it?" He said stuffing the wallet into his pocket. He had already revealed too many secrets tonight. Hermione looked baffled for a second at the sudden change of topic but went along with it.

"Won't anyone notice we're gone?" She asked, "And how are we getting there? Besides... It's dangerous for you, out there. Death-Eaters are still after you. What happens if Voldemort catches you?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Do you really think Death-Eaters, never mind Voldemort will be prancing around Muggle London, looking for me?" Hermione blushed slightly and nodded, eyes still looking worried.

"Why do you need to go to London anyway?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised. The Doctor grinned at her and tapped the top of his head.

"_I_, need a new fez."

Hermione blinked at him, apparently lost.

"A fez?" She asked slowly. The Doctor frowned at her lack of enthusiasm and adjusted his bow-tie.

"Yeah, fezzes are cool."

"Says the man who thinks bow-ties are cool." Hermione shot back, smiling playfully.

The Doctor frowned, "They ARE!" He said and started stalking towards the apparition point where he'd seen Dumbledore and Tonks disappear from last night.

"Ha-Doctor! Where are you going?" Hermione exclaimed, quickly jogging behind him, as quickly as her flip-flops would allow her.

"I am going to London, are you coming?" He said stopping right on the right spot and smiling mischievously as Hermione stopped in front of him.

Hermione eyed him with a frown, but then finally, reluctantly nodded, although her eyes strayed over the bruises on his face in concern. "If you insist on doing this reckless venture, you'll be doing it with me. Now, how are we getting there?" She asked.

"Apparating!" He exclaimed and her eyebrows shot up into her hair.

"Have you ever done it before?" She asked with a frown, as the Doctor linked his arm with hers.

"Nope! Should be easy enough!" And before she could separate herself from him, or even start arguing, he had already slipped into the vortex aka.: the nothingness as the wizards called it. Apparating was actually quite easy, well for him anyway. After all, he knew what the vortex felt and looked like.

They appeared in the Parliament square, both of them grabbing each other to stabilize. They ended up in a tangle right under Churchill's statue, which was glaring down at them.

"That's odd," Said the Doctor, gazing at the 'Churchill'. Hermione blinked at him, slowly standing up, to join the Doctor who was tapping Churchill's foot and she hit him angrily.

"You- you... Ugh, next time, warn me. Now, what's odd?" She asked, trying to ignore the fact that it was about ten o'clock at night, she was in her pyjamas, and there were hundreds of tourists around them still enjoying the glorious landmarks London had to offer.

"The statue. I distinctly remember Churchill staring at Big Ben, rather than at the floor... Or us." The Doctor muttered, more to himself. Hermione frowned, staring at the statue... She did have a post card at home she had meant to send to a friend but never did, with the statue of Churchill staring up at Big Ben.

"It might be... Nah," The Doctor muttered to himself, ignoring Hermione, letting his brain work at full speed. The Weeping Angels couldn't have followed him here, right? No, that wall had been opened for a split second, the angels wouldn't have had any chance. Shaking his head rapidly to clear it of all morbid and sad thoughts about Amy and Rory, he grabbed Hermione's hand (who let out a yelp of surprise) and started pulling her through the crowds which were looking at them oddly.

"Doctor!" Hermione finally exclaimed, pulling him to a stop and put her hands on either arm. She looked at him seriously, "I'm still in my pyjamas! And you still have bruises on your face!"

He blinked at her in surprise and gazed at her, a hand raising to touch his face, wincing a bit as he pressed. "Oh. Well," He shrugged, "Come on then!" He was about to start walking again when she stopped him.

"Doctor! Harry, listen. I'm in my pyjamas and we're in central London. There are tourists around, and they're all looking at us oddly. You look like you came out of a party - drunk and beaten up." A few tourists who had been staring at them, blushed and turned away. The Doctor sighed, took her hand and pulled her behind a tree where they were somewhat hidden from the tourists walking on the paths. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione's clothes.

"No! Don't! The ministry will detect you!" Hermione whispered harshly, eyes darting about, as if expecting a ministry official to jump out of a bush. The Doctor sighed and loosened his hold on the wand slightly.

"The trace is obviously put on the mind, on your soul if you will, so when you turn seventeen, the trace instantly disappears. I happen a little older than that. Besides, the trace only works on humans and last time I checked, I was an alien. Weeeell, technically, to me YOU are the aliens." He muttered, trailing off slightly at the end. Hermione stared at him in thought.

"Wait... But how can you use magic at all then? And... How old are you?" She seemed steadily getting more excited. The Doctor grinned at her.

"Well, magic, as I have already told you, is simply energy. As a Time-Lord I have an immense amount stored in my body. Therefore, I am also able to use a wand." He paused for a moment, sinking in the happy expression on Hermione's face. "So if you will allow me..."

Without waiting for an answer he flicked the wand in his hand and pictured Hermione in jeans and a t-shirt, and proper shoes. Seconds later, a dressed Hermione was standing in front of him. She gazed at him in amazement and he was about to speed off again when she she stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

"Er... Doctor, you still have the two bruises." She said, a smile creeping up her face.

"Ah... Well, I tried to get rid of them earlier. None of the spells worked. I'll go visit the twins tomorrow. They'll have something against it." With that, he bounced off, down the street. Leaving Hermione shaking her head, with amusement.

...

Eventually, after a very long search around the centre of London they found a small millinery called James Lock & Co. on St James's Street. It was a small, posh little shop which The Doctor had tried to avoid at first. Posh meant expensive. Expensive meant he needed more money and currently, he only had about fifty pounds left from Dudley's wallet. But Hermione had persuaded him to go in and look at hats. After all, there weren't many places in London where one could buy a fez.

Personally, the Doctor thought it was odd to have a shop like this open at eight o'clock at night... But then again, if they had a lot of shoppers at that time, it could be worth it. Either that, or they were vampires.

The shopkeeper was standing behind the counter, gazing at the two with narrowed eyes, as if afraid the two had come to terrorize the shop. Well, they weren't dressed in their poshest clothes... But they didn't look like homeless people either. Perhaps it was due to the two large bruises on the Doctor's face.

Finally though, the shopkeeper must have decided that they were worth something because he quickly made his way to them, hastily putting a large smile on his face.

"How may I help you?" The man asked, politely, still gazing at the two with a hint of suspicion. The Doctor grinned, "Ah, well, we're here to buy a fez for a party..." He paused, eyes flickering to Hermione who's eyes were flickering around the shop with excitement. Grinning at the shop keeper, he pulled his psychic paper out and flicked it at the man, mentally telling it to show the shopkeeper a royal id. The man's eyes widened suddenly, and he bowed his head quickly in respect.

"I beg your pardon, your highness. I didn't know it was you." The man straightened and stepped back, in a more respectful distance. The Doctor grinned at Hermione who was watching the exchange curiously, frowning a little. Her eyes flickered to the psychic paper the Doctor was putting into his coat pocket, then to the Doctor and finally the shopkeeper. She gazed sternly at the shopkeeper.

"I, am his sister. I'll have a bow as well," She said, raising her head and looking like she could indeed be of noble birth. The shopkeeper winced slightly, probably at his own 'mistake' and quickly bowed to her as well.

"I apologize," He straightened once more and gazed curiously at them, "If I may, your Highnesses, I don't believe I have ever heard of you..." He trailed off, wincing again, probably realizing that that could be interpreted as an insult. The Doctor chuckled, ignoring Hermione's nervous expression.

"Ah, we're a... slightly obscure branch of the family. Now, drop the 'your highness', and call me the Doctor, she's... Ms. Buckteeth." He trailed off, gazing at the hats around him pointedly and once more ignoring Hermione who was now staring at him with disapproval and slight annoyance.

The shopkeeper nodded quickly, smiling nervously, if a little confusedly. "A fez, was it?" He asked. The Doctor grinned and nodded. With that, the shopkeeper quickly left through a back door, muttering a short 'excuse me'.

The instant the door shut behind him, Hermione rounded on the Doctor, glaring at him.

"Your highness? Serioulsy? That was a really irresponsible thing to do!" She poked his chest harshly, "_And _that man probably just went to tell his superiors." She paused for a moment. Letting the Doctor digest all of that. He just shrugged. Bah, he'd gotten out of more difficult situations. She poked his chest again to get his attention, "Besdies... How did you convince Mr Cook that you are royal?"

The Doctor blinked at her, "Mr Cook?" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, he had a name tag."

"Oh..." He was rescued from explaining the complicated theory of the psychic paper by the door opening again. The man - Mr Cook stepped through, holding a red, velvet fez in one hand, and price tag in the other (which he stuffed into his pocket).

"Er... Doctor, Ms... Buckteeth, I'm afraid my superiors (the Doctor smirked victoriously at Hermione, who looked away) are away on important business elsewhere in the country. _I_ shall have to serve you instead." The Doctor ginned at Mr Cook and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, grinning as he accepted the fez and slipped it on his head, faintly remembering how River had blasted it out of the sky.

Hermione glanced at him and instantly broke into giggles. Mr Cook smiled at him, amused.

"Perfect!" The Doctor said as he looked into a mirror Mr Cook had found to hold up for him. "Yes! I'll take it." He said excitedly which only caused Hermione to fall into a further round of giggles.

The Doctor winced slightly at the thought of having to deceive this poor man who would later get scolded by his superiors when they found out that a Prince Albert his age, didn't exist. Well, some manipulation would have to be involved. So, smiling politely, the Doctor dived his hand into his pocket, gazing at Mr Cook pointedly. Mr Cook however, stopped the Doctor before he could even produce a ten pound note.

"No, no, no! Your Highnesses! It's perfectly fine. Consider it a gift. It'll be an honour for us at James Lock & Co. for you to wear the fez!"

The Doctor turned away when he saw Hermione's disapproving gaze on him once more, and thanked the man with a little bow of the head, the tassel falling forward slightly.

"Thank you very much, Mr Cook! I shall wear it with pride. Now, if you excuse us, we had a prior engagement."

...

Needless to say, as soon as they were out of sight of the shop window, both of them broke out in a run. All the way from the shop till they reached Buckingham Palace which was still swarming with tourists at half past eleven. With a tired sigh, Hermione slumped down on one of the benches littered around the square. Her forehead was shiny and her hair was sticking slightly to her skin, she looked up at the Doctor with a frown who was simply standing in front of her, panting slightly, but otherwise not looking very tired out.

"How-"

"I'm an Alien, Hermione. My internal body temperature is 16 degrees Celsius. (60 degrees Fahrenheit). And instead of having two lungs, I have a series of pulmonary tubes parallel to my lymphatic system." A pair of tourists who had been passing by, stared at the Doctor, then shrugged and continued walking. Hermione however was staring at him.

"Wait, but you showed me earlier that you have two hearts. An increase of heart beats per minute means a higher blood temperature." She muttered to him. The Doctor wagged his finger at her, grinning.

"Ah, but I am an alien." She just grinned at him. A few minutes later, when she seemed to have calmed down, the Doctor offered his arm to her. She quickly took it and they sped off down a nearby street which was mostly empty.

"So... Where to now, Doctor?" She asked as they rounded a corner, and entered a brightly lit street filled with people milling about. Several camera men were relaxing on the pavement, the others were on what seemed to be the set, filming something which neither the Doctor nor Hermione could see behind the crowd of working people. A small fence of had been set up at the entrance of the street, and unsurprisingly, a bunch of fans had turned up to catch a glimpse of the actors of the show.

Hermione and the Doctor stopped at the fence and she turned to him with wide eyes.

"A film set!" She exclaimed, glancing at the set again as if to assure herself that it was still there. Then, the crowd parted for a second and a man was revealed, wearing a tweed suit and a bow tie, looking exactly like the Doctor's 11th incarnation. Then seconds later, the little hole was sealed again as a camera man walked into their line of vision.

Hermione once more turned to the Doctor with wide eyes. "A _Doctor Who _film set!" She exclaimed. The Doctor grinned at her, and glanced around them; who knew a show about him could attract so much interest? Just as he was about to turn to Hermione to say exactly that, a woman dressed as a... _Dalek, _crashed into him. She chuckled as she straightened herself, "Er... Sorry, this costume is a little bulky, awesome cosplay costume by the way!" She said and turned away, continuing whatever conversation she had been having.

The Doctor glared at her, seriously, who would want to dress as a Dalek? That was basically like insulting yourself! Shaking his head to clear it from stray thoughts and unwanted memories which kept popping up, he grabbed his companion's hand and plunged into the crowd of fans, weaving expertly through it.

As they reached one of the barriers set up and a guard standing next to it, the Doctor pulled out his psychic paper, and summoned a happy grin to his face.

"'Ello!" Said the Doctor, showing the 'ID' to the guard whose eyes widened in surprise, "John Smith, from the BBC, I need to talk to anyone who's in charge here." At that, the guard frowned at him and his eyes narrowed sceptically and he grabbed the 'ID'.

"You shouldn't have used John Smith," Hermione whispered into his ear, "It's way too common." The Doctor shot a glare at her and turned his attention back to the guard who was now holding the 'ID' out for the Doctor to take back.

"Everything seems to be in order, sir," He said, eyes sweeping up and down the Doctor's body, "Although there was no need to dress up," The man said dryly. The Doctor's eyes mentally narrowed.

No one insulted his clothing.

"I'll have you know I think bow-ties are cool," He said icily.

"Er... Yo, the Doctor doesn't say it like that!" Said a male fan, dressed as the '11th' Doctor. He grinned at Hermione, "It's more like this..." He then tried to look at them playfully and adjusted his bow-tie, grinning and said rather loudly and in an odd accent, "Bow-ties are cool." The other fans around him looked impressed and a couple even clapped a couple of times.

Hermione leaned forward on her toes, and whispered into his ear, "You actually do sound like that, you know."

"I do not!" The Doctor exclaimed and stalked through the fence (which the guard had opened for them), closely followed by Hermione who was sniggering quietly to herself.

"Right, this way please," Said the guard, catching up to them after he had once more closed the gate.

"Are you mad?!" Hermione muttered to him, seeing that the guard was more preoccupied with leading the two through the large crowd of people who were milling about with cameras, make-up and scripts. "We're basically lying our way into every place. Besides, wouldn't it create some sort of paradox if they were to meet you?"

The Doctor grinned at her and whispered back, "There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line. And no. I'm not really meeting myself, just the actor who plays me... So really, it isn't me. If it were me, it would probably create a paradox. A paradox which would blow a hole the size of Belgium in the universe. I wouldn't risk doing that. So no, we won't create a paradox by meeting them."

She frowned up at him, "Could you make yourself any harder to understand?" Hermione muttered and seeing he was about to answer, she interrupted him quickly, "Besides didn't Oscar Levant say that? Ha! Plagiarism! "

"Weeeell, I said that first... I suggested the idea to him. So technically, _he_ did plagiarism." The Doctor said grinning.

"How could he do plagiarism... If 'the Doctor' didn't exist in this world up until now?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. The Doctor blinked and stared down at her.

"Fine, I won't lie ourselves into anywhere ever again." He muttered to her, feeling defeated.

"Never... like never, ever, ever, _ever_?" She asked hopefully. He just grinned at her and raised a hand from behind his back with crossed fingers.

"Rule ONE: the Doctor lies." He ignored the annoyed glance sent at him, as he slowly sped up his pace to catch up with the guard who had now stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a set at the dead end of the street. The Doctor gazed at it with interest, never having seen a proper film set. Two actors who looked exactly like his '11' regeneration and Clara were standing across from each other, talking. One camera was focused on '11's' face, the other on 'Clara's', and another one was riding between them on rails. Behind them, the dead-end of the street had been transformed into a slump, with bins spread out randomly, some of them filled with real rubbish.

There weren't many people on the set, just the two actors, three camera men, a director sitting on a foldable chair, holding something which looked like a telescope, gazing at a screen intently. A man with curly dark hair, was standing behind him, arms folded behind his back, leaning forward also gazing at the screen making remarks every now and then.

"Their break starts soon, you should wait in the pavilion." The guard said suddenly, gesturing behind them, to a small white pavilion that had been set up, probably as a replacement for trailers.

Grinning, the Doctor patted the guard on the shoulder.

"Cheers, mate!" With that he slipped in through the flap, Hermione following him anxiously. Three tables had been set up, with benches on either side of each one, for the actors, camera men and well... anyone to come and take a break.

A fourth table was covered with stacked up plates, several cakes and thermos, probably containing tea or coffee. Smiling, the Doctor grabbed a plastic cup and poured some tea for himself, and a piece of cake.

The Doctor grinned at Hermione as he sat across from her, one hand holding a carton cup with steaming, hot tea and the other holding a carton, disposable plate with a generous slice of cheesecake on it. Hermione rolled her eyes as she took him in, but accepted the proffered plate anyway.

"So, what's the plan?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. The Doctor chortled quietly.

"Well... Basically, plan a is to complete plan b." Hermione just blinked at him, not really fazed. Ah, she must be getting used to his antics. Pity.

"Fine, what's plan b, then?" She asked finally after a long pause.

"Er... well, plan b is... erm..."

"You have no idea do you?"

"Nope!" The Doctor said, popping the 'p'. "Well, I was just hoping to go with it, you know."

"No I don't know," Hermione muttered with a sigh, "That's so typically Gryffindor."

"Really?" The Doctor asked with a small frown, "I always fancied myself a Ravenclaw... Or even a Hufflepuff." Hermione scrutinized him quietly.

"You mean you'd rather be a soft-hearted, mediocre student?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. The Doctor scratched his fore head, fingers massaging his scar briefly, remembering all of a sudden that all those horcruxes were still around.

Blinking, he returned his attention back to Hermione, he'd deal with all of that later, when he had his TARDIS, then he would have all the time in the universe in his hands.

"Well, no. But I like Hufflepuffs, they're honest. A virtue I seem to lack. Besides, isn't that a little too much prejudice for a prefect, Hermione?" He said with a grin. She blushed slightly and a small wave of triumph fluttered through him, 1:0!

"You know," Hemione finally muttered after a long pause, "It's odd to think that this morning we were greeting you in the twins' room, criticizing your bow tie and new style in general." She paused, "It somehow oddly suits you." She smiled, ignoring the 'I told you so' look the Doctor was giving her, "Harry _is _coming back, isn't he? I don't mean to sound rude, I like this version of you too..."

The Doctor took off his fez, placing it on the table, he attempted to look more serious and tried to transform his smile into an understanding one. Putting one hand over hers, the one that was fiddling with the corner of the carton plate, and gazed into her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll do everything in my power to bring back the old Harry," He paused, "You'll see, we'll find something together and if the Doctor Who series screenwriter believes us, we can recruit him as well."

"What should I believe? And what's this about recruiting?" Came a Scottish accented voice from the doorway... er... flap entrance. The Doctor stood up quickly and spun around, arms flapping around like a great magician about to perform an outstanding trick.

A man was standing at the entrance, arms folded and staring straight at the Doctor. His hair was dark, curly but short; the eyes intelligent, like those of a genius - mad yet strangely, simultaneously alert. Standing behind him were the actors who played 'Clara' and the '11th Doctor'. They were both regarding the scene with curiosity, eyes narrowed in the case of the former.

"Aha!" The Doctor cried out happily, "We were talking about how we hoped that the screenwriter, who I can assume is you, will believe us when we tell him, that we are time-travellers, well, actually, _I _am, she hasn't done that yet. I'm kind of missing my TARDIS-"

"Er... Don't you remember third year? Time-Turners?" Hermione asked from behind him. The Doctor turned his head slightly, eyes still fixed on the screen writer.

"Ah, yes, right," He turned back to his audience, "Fine, she's done some time-travel. Ooooh! I'll have to examine some Time-Turners! You're unknowingly accessing the Time-vortex, and travelling through it! Isn't _that _exciting?" His tirade was interrupted by Hermione's cough. He clapped his hands together, trying to get back on track.

"Right, sorry. Too many thoughts travelling through my mind right now; too little time. Ah... Doesn't that sound odd coming from me?" He paused for a second, taking in their expressions, which raged from shocked, to confused, to creeped out. "Right, moving on. We were hoping you would also believe us when I say that I am the Doctor from an alternate Universe, and I was thrown into this one (with my TARDIS which I can't find right now, for some reason) in which my life is a television show and my favourite book series is reality. Meaning Harry Potter and magic is real!"

He turned to Hermione who had by now risen and was standing by his side.

"How did I do?" He asked, a grin stretching from ear to ear. She rolled her eyes.

"Worse than I expected," She replied, causing his face to transform into a mock-pout and turn to his audience with a mock sniff. "You could have been about 20% better if you didn't flap your hands about." She continued, "You can speak without flapping your hands about, can't you?"

The Doctor frowned slightly, "Of course I can!" He finally exclaimed, flapping his arms about to emphasize his point. Then, suddenly, he paused, and let his arms drop to his sides, scowling at Hermione who was smirking triumphantly at him. 1:1

Turning his attention back to his audience, he noticed that '11' was sniggering quietly to himself, although he kept eyeing the Doctor with concern, probably because of the bothersome bruises. 'Clara' was glaring at '11' and whispering to him to shut up. The screenwriter was still standing there, arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. Then he seemed to suddenly shake his head mentally, because he suddenly straightened and his face returned to a sort of stony suspicion. The screen-writer uncrossed his arms for a few seconds, only to clasp his hands behind his back, probably trying to look more authoritarian.

"Right, you two... great show. I'm sure you practised a lot." He paused, staring straight at the Doctor, forehead crinkling in thought, "I don't know how you got past the guards... But you've gotta leave now. Our break is almost finished and we still have to film quite a lot scenes. Besides... _Doctor_, if you were who you say you are, who you probably aren't... Wouldn't you have a TARDIS, never mind a double heartbeat?"

The Doctor's eyes twinkled as he stared at the man, "First of all, Mr..."

"Moffat, Steven Moffat," The screenwriter interjected quickly, slightly disbelieving, as if confused someone didn't know his name.

"Right... Mr Moffat, I'm quite sure my friend here and I didn't practise anything. Secondly, I have psychic paper," A this he held up his wallet, containing the psychic paper. Catching Hermione's disapproving frown, he quickly tucked it back into his jacket pocket. "And lastly... Time is relative... _And _I have a time-machine. Weeeellll, I can't find it at the moment, urgh, fancy that! A Time-lord without a TARDIS, how much more tragic can it become?" A sour expression graced his face for a moment.

Moffat frowned at him again, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth becoming even more prominent than before, making him look slightly older and more unapproachable.

"And fourthly!" The Doctor exclaimed, wiggling four fingers in the air, right in front of his face, "_If _you would have bothered to take my pulse, you would have discovered I _do _have a double heartbeat. Well, double the humans'." He said with a challenging air about him, "And if you don't believe me, go ahead and take a pulse," He held out his right arm, exposing his wrist to the group.

Then, just as Moffat and the two actors behind him were about to step forwards, the flap of the tent flew open, causing the unsticking velcro to create a loud noise which made everyone in the tent jump up in fright.

"Christ! David!" 'Clara' exclaimed, a hand resting above her heart with a mock-shocked expression. The Doctor was about to move forward to shake the man's hand when suddenly, he took the newcomer in, shocked as he saw that the man looked exactly like his 10th reincarnation. Then, before the Doctor was able to utter anything, _David _had already stepped away from the 'doorway', to let someone else through.

A woman stepped through, dressed in a pale pink jacket with a cream-white blouse underneath and tight jeans gracing her long legs. Her hair was blonde and shoulder-length, her eyes were dark green and surrounding them was quite a lot of eye-liner which made them sand out all the more.

The Doctor gulped quietly, letting out a silent whimper only Hermione seemed to hear, judging by the concerned glance she shot him.

His eyes shot towards _David _and back to _Rose, _and it struck him. The coincidences were just too large to ignore. He was in _that _universe. Those eyes... They were the eyes of the Bad Wolf.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, he was barely aware of the fact that his eyes were filling up with tears, and he muttered in a broken voice, "Rose."

* * *

**So there, I bet none of you expected that. I hope that wasn't too sudden.  
**

**Anyway, just tell me what you think in a review... and whether you want _David _and _Rose _to stay for long... Possibly any old faces?**

**I hope you enjoyed that... And well, have a good evening/afternoon/morning/night XD. **


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